


Tear Me Down

by Minirose96



Series: Take Me Away [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Emotional pain, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, little talk of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1341679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minirose96/pseuds/Minirose96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are you doing here, Molly?" He asked, being the first to find his vocal chords. His voice was a mixture of confusion, wariness, and aloofness. </p><p>She blinked, and said the first thing that came to mind. "You're not high." She could have smacked herself, especially as he arched his brow in response.</p><p>*This is one of two endings written for this series. The other is "Bring Me Down." Please check out that one too!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tear Me Down

Molly entered the flat quietly. She expected the worst, which was why she was surprised when she saw Sherlock, impeccably dressed in a suit, sitting at the table and looking into his microscope.

Sherlock, for his part, looked equally surprised when he looked up and saw her standing there.

"What are you doing here, Molly?" He asked, being the first to find his vocal chords. His voice was a mixture of confusion, wariness, and aloofness.

She blinked, and said the first thing that came to mind. "You're not high." She could have smacked herself, especially as he arched his brow in response.

"Not at all. What would give you that idea?" He asked.

Of course, the last time she came was lost between them.

Instead of answering, she approached, and gently tugged his arm from the microscope, and pushed up his sleeve. He allowed her to.

There was... well, the usual scars. Nothing that showed a constant user. Nothing that showed any evidence of use after the video she had watched. She knew that was real.

She tucked down the sleeve carefully, and stepped away.

He sighed, and turned to her. "Are you satisfied with your findings?" He asked. It was one part a challenge and one part curiosity.

She swallowed and nodded. "You got high... after I left. Right?" she asked softly.

"Yes." He met her eyes without reservation or shame.

"But only that time."

"Yes." He arched his brow. "Why are you here, Molly?"

"Your brother..." She huffed slightly, the corner of her lip upturned slightly. "He told me you were going to overdose in three months because of your excessive drug use since I left."

"I see." He said stoically, turning back to the microscope. "As you can see, I am not on the verge of an overdose, so your natural need to coddle me is unneeded. Since we've cleared that up nicely, you can leave. I'll have a word with my brother later. He'll leave you alone."

Molly looked down, her fingers fidgeting as she held her hands together. She swallowed. "I didn't come here because of your brother... though I guess he did cause it, but... I came to see you."

Sherlock didn't react with more than a hum.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, because I felt awful about slapping you after you kissed me because I wasn't expecting it and you seemed so honest that day. And when I came here, I saw you with that vial, and I thought you were doing it again - and I couldn't watch you destroy yourself again, so I left, and I'm sorry, and then when Mycroft said you might be dying it scared me because I thought that after everything you really were going to kill yourself and that I wouldn't have the chance to apologize because I should have stayed and figured things out and I saw a video of you high and -"

Sherlock looking up sharply finally stopped the long string she had been forming, which had been turning more and more into a jumbled mess.

"Video?"

Silently, she nodded.

"Where?"

She pointed out where the one in the kitchen had come from. Sherlock stood, and pushed aside a few boxes and pulled out a tiny camera, no bigger than the pad of his thumb. He sneered. "Brother dear, I know you're watching. If you put any more cameras up in my flat, I will tell Mummy." he smirked, and promptly threw the camera into the trash.

He turned back to her. "Any others?"

"yes, in the living room. It looked like it was coming from the top of the book case."

Sherlock found and dispatched of that one as well.

Molly looked down at her shoes as he stopped a foot in front of her. It was back to this, it seemed. "I am sorry, Sherlock. I... I miss you," she admitted quietly. "I know I don't deserve to say that, for leaving, but I do." She swallowed. "I'll just... go. I know how much you hate it when people babble... sorry." She could have winced at the failings in her own words, especially when Sherlock remained silent throughout the messy ordeal.

She brushed past him quickly, keeping her head down. She felt like a fool - tricked by Mycroft, sent here on a wild goose chase, and then turned into a stumbling, bumbling idiot because of her own mistakes.

He caught her wrist, and tugged her against him. Her back was to his chest.

"Wha -" He covered her eyes with his palm, and she was silent.

"Take it back."

She swallowed. It took her a moment to work it out. Several moments, actually, but Sherlock was patient. She smiled softly. "I take it back. Please." She could have said it earlier, but it would have been empty words. She would always take it back, now. He wasn't poison, he was life.

He removed his hand and turned her around. She opened her eyes, and looked up at him. His face was a hard mask.

"Sherlock?" she spoke hesitantly.

He smirked. "Now that that is cleared up, I really must insist you leave Miss Hooper. I've no time for you right now."

The formality of it all, and the cold precise way in which he spoke told her more than anything else what was happening. What she deserved.

She closed her eyes to keep away her own bubbling emotions, inhaled, and opened them again. She smiled softly. "Of course, Sherlock. I'm glad you're okay. I am -"

"Enough apologies. Just get out of my flat, Miss Hooper. I'm busy." He was already back at his microscope, peering at whatever sample was under the slide.

She left him to his thoughts, as he asked.

Tears trailed silently down her cheeks during the cab ride home.

After all, this was all her fault. He spent so much time trying to be better, when perhaps - no, definitely - she should also have been working to be good enough for him. All the failings now were on her part. He may have been the one to do the drugs, but she should have been there to help him through it in the first place. Isn't that what good partners do?

She smiled softly at the irony.


End file.
